Knowing and observing
by Ilikerandomthingssodontjudgeme
Summary: What Sherlock can do, when you actually think about it; is amazing. But what would have happened if Sherlock came across someone who could do all he could, and more? Starts off around the time of TTG. This story used to be called 'Hearing, Reading and Writing'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! This is my first Sherlock fanfic! I've been thinking about this idea for a while, and I wrote this quite a while ago, but only now did I finally post it. So yeah, enjoy!**

_Why Can't I just go home? Leave me alone!_

_Oh dear, here we go again._

Those were the thoughts that I picked up from the people around me. Most people's thoughts were so angry; up until I was sixteen, I never knew how angry the world actually was. The day after I turned sixteen, was the day I developed the ability to hear people's thoughts. Comes in handy, I must say. I also get these random visions of the future.

Anyway, this morning I almost had a heart attack. I woke up and I had wings. Yep, you read right, a pair of white feathery wings. And what made me even more freaked out was that the night before I didn't have anything resembling wings on my back, and this morning I wake up with a pair of fully grown wings. I've always wanted wings, so it's great that I have them, but on the other hand, it's going to be hard to conceal them from the rest of the world. I went for a flight this morning, and it was the best feeling in the world. I only have to push down with my wings, in order to lift myself off the ground. And if you're wondering 'how the hell does this strange person magically know how to fly?', I've been obsessed with having wings ever since I can remember, so I decided that in case my dream came true, I may as well know how to use my wings, and so I did some research. Anyway, back to the present time:

"Let's start with them!" said a man, pointing his figure to a couple, probably mother and son, who were sitting across the room. This man was sitting next to a rather plain, and yet open-minded looking man, who looked like how a student does, when their teacher starts one of their rants.

"Probably a mother treating her son, by the way she's only eating very little. She's wearing a ridiculous dress, which does not suit her at all" (I had to agree with the man on that one). "Probably a present from her son, remember she's treating her son to dinner. Obviously she's trying to get into her son's good books. Why? Money, it is evident by her jewellery and her complexion, that she doesn't have much money. Perhaps she's in debt, which would explain why she's trying to make herself look rich, but failed entirely. Now let's move on, nope, those two are boring." He said, gesturing towards a young couple, who were sitting at the table next to mine. "How about the hunchback over there?" he said, pointing in my direction. I suddenly realised that, with my wings lightly tucked in against my back; I would look like I had a hunched back posture. I would tuck my wings in more, but I'm afraid I'll damage them or something.

"You can tell straight away that she's an outcast. Just look at what she's wearing! Baggy clothes, also suggests insecurity, and self-consciousness. You can tell that she's just had a major shock, perhaps the death of a pet? More likely her boyfriend dumped her. If it were the death of a close relative or of her boyfriend, then she wouldn't be out eating in a place like this. Then there's the way she's done her hair, tightly pulled up, suggests trying to move on with life, but failing entirely."

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Then I thought of a better idea.

It was easy enough, searching through the two men's thoughts, to get this man's phone number. I found it, then immediately grabbed my phone, punched in the man's phone number, and typed in one little word.

I heard the man's phone beep, indicating that he has a text. However, he didn't look at it. He was staring intensely at the fire place, which was on the other side of the room. Instead, the man sitting next to him (you know, the plain looking one) picked up the phone, and frowned.

"Sherlock" he said. "you got a text, unknown number. All it says is _wrong_." Immediately, the man, presumably called Sherlock, took the phone, looked at the screen, and started looking around at everyone in the room. I purposely tried to make my behaviour seem natural, so I deliberately picked up my drink of orange juice, and started drinking it, pretending to look thoughtful. Being a mind-reader, you know how people's minds tend to work, and what behaviour they think seems suspicious; although Sherlock's mind was a lot busier than anyone else's. It made these deductions about people; most of them were right, or rather, every one of them was right except one; the one about me.

I decided to get up and leave, seeing as I had finished my orange juice, and so, it would be a bit weird if I just remained sitting there, alone, staring at all the different people in the room. When I got back to my apartment, I found a notice on my door. It said: _Dear Emma, although we realize that this is on extremely short notice, we have to ask that you pack up your things, and leave your apartment by the end of the week. Another person is going to occupy your apartment, and we feel that they will be more suited to the apartment than you. Best Wishes, Felicity Goodman, president of Whitsafoot apartments._

…oh… What am I going to do? Where am I going to live? I mean, I could make the person change their mind(because I can control people's minds, as well as read them), but my creepy feeling is telling me not to do that(I tend to get a feeling about things, just another creepy thing about me I suppose). And because my creepy feeling is very annoying, it doesn't bother telling me what I should do now, and where I should go. I could talk to Auntie Maddy(her real name is Madeline but I like to call her Maddy, and plus, she prefers Maddy), yeah, that feels like a good idea. She insists that she doesn't mind when everyone calls her by her last name, but I know she does (I know she does mind because I've looked into her mind).

Before long, I was outside the block of apartments which my aunt owns, and ringing the doorbell. "Auntie Maddy!" I exclaimed as she opened the door to the block of apartments, which Auntie Maddy owns.

"Emma! Hello sweetie! I hear you're having a rough time at the moment?" Auntie Maddy asked.

"Not really, it's just that I got kicked out of my apartment, and I was wondering if there were any spare apartments here?" I asked. She thought that getting kicked out of your apartment was bad? Take this from someone who can read people's minds(hear people's thoughts, whatever you want to call it), and so can see their struggles, their memories and desires; trust me, there are a LOT worse things to happen than losing your apartment.

"Well, as it happens, I have. I can put the rent price down a bit if you want to take it" Maddy offered kindly.

"Really? Wow, thanks! Could you just show me the apartment you had in mind?" I asked, feeling very grateful towards Maddy.

She took me to see the apartment. On the way there, I almost choked. I hadn't really been concentrating about Maddy's thoughts, but now that I concentrated more, I could see that Sherlock also lived in her block of apartments. 221 Baker Street. Great, now I have to put up with a high functioning sociopath, who also happens to be a consulting detective. I mean, it sounds very exciting and all, and I could most definitely help him with a case, should he need it. But I also knew that he was very rude and inconsiderate, and would most definitely _not_ want my help on a case. And because my telling the future thing feels the need to pop up at the most random moments, I saw a vision of me working with Sherlock and John(John was that plain-looking dude, you know, the one that checked Sherlock's phone, because apparently Sherlock was too lazy to answer the phone himself).

I'm not like Alice in Twilight, where I see people's decisions, and so when a person changes their mind, the vision changes. I'm not quite like that, and the visions that I see are much more accurate than Alice's. What I mean is, my 'visions' have never once been wrong, and they don't show me what people decide either. And plus, it randomly happens out of the blue. Anyway, I'm getting a little side-tracked.

I almost choked going up the stairs. "Are you alright, dear?" Maddy asked anxiously.

"yeah, I'm fine" I said, trying to sound reassuring. The truth was, I wasn't sure what to do. I could take this apartment, but then, judging from Maddy's thoughts, I would have to put up with strange noises, at all hours of the night, coming from Sherlock and John's apartment.

As soon as Maddy led me into the apartment, I knew that I would end up living here. It was perfect; perfect size, even the colours looked perfect. The only thing that wasn't perfect was the sound of a gunshot.


	2. Chapter 2

Then came another gunshot, and another. I counted five in total. At first I panicked, then, as I calmed down and started concentrating more on the thoughts around me, I became aware that Sherlock had been the one firing a gun. I also learned that he was firing the gun at the wall, one: because he was bored, and two: to annoy John. …right. So, I decided to take the flat (I know right? Girl's not sure whether she'll take the flat, she hears a gunshot, and so she decides to take the flat. Yeah, I'm very normal, as you can see), unsure of what would happen. I knew that this would be incredibly exciting, and I might actually be able to put my powers to good use. On the other hand though, there is no way that I am letting ANYBODY find out about my powers; my reading minds and telling the future things are easy enough to keep hidden, but the wings. They're a little harder to hide. As long as I'm careful to wear a slightly too big jumper or T-shirt(and not to wear anything that's see-through), I'm okay, but if I don't, then I end up looking like a hunchback(something I learnt the hard way).

A few days later, I had settled into my flat, and was about to commence reading the daily newspapers. I always read the newspaper, mainly because I like to keep a look out for any news articles with the headlines of "mutants are real! Make sure none of your friends, is one! If you are a mutant, then please come and enrol on our mutant register, and after doing that, you will be studied by scientists". Yeah, I might be a tad paranoid, mainly because I'm pretty sure the majority of the population think that mutants don't even exist.

I was about to commence reading my daily newspapers, when I heard shouting, "Oh, for god's sake! It's staring you in the face, just look at the marks on his sleeves! Of course he did it!".

"Well, excuse me, but I'm not a high-functioning sociopath so I don't pick up on these things!" John yelled back at Sherlock. By this time I was standing in their doorway.

"Do you want something?" Sherlock asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Do I have to want something, in order to stand here?" I asked. I saw John grin out of the corner of my eye.

"No" Sherlock said, rather flabbergasted. I'm guessing he isn't used to people asking that. "But usually, when someone is standing at our door, they want something."

"Well, I suppose I'm not like most people then" I said, angry at how low this man thought of other people. I mean, ok, so he observes things that most people don't. That doesn't automatically make him better than everybody else. I looked across at the knife, which was stuck into the shelf near the fireplace. As I observed it, I started to see all the memories that that knife had been involved in. I could see that it had been used to stab several criminals. I could see that it had been carried upon Sherlock's person for hours. I could also see…hold on. I could also see that that knife was going to be used to stab an apple. An apple? Wait, not just stab an apple, carve letters into an apple. Those letters spelt IOU. Pretty boring in my opinion, and why waste a perfectly good apple, when Moriaty could easily write that down on a piece of paper? Was he obsessed with Snow White or something? Adam and Eve maybe? And yeah, Moriaty; from what I can tell, he is Sherlock's arch-nemesis. I'm not kidding, that's how Sherlock refers to him in his thoughts. Sherlock hasn't met him yet, but he will.

"What's so interesting about my knife?" Sherlock asked irritably.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing" I said, simply because I knew that would annoy Sherlock. I could see that Sherlock was used to knowing things, so I knew it would annoy him if I decided not to tell him everything I knew. I turned to go.

"Hang on, wait. Could you come and take a look at this?" John asked, vaguely gesturing towards a photograph, which was sitting on a desk, which was crowded with papers. I wasn't sure if my memory thing would work on a photograph. I mean, would I be able to see the memories surrounding the person in the photograph? I may as well find out.

I tentatively took a look at the photograph, and sighed in relief. I could still see the memories involving that person, but I could also see the memories involving the photo. I looked at the photograph. Damn, Sherlock was right, the man was guilty. "Guilty" I said. I saw Sherlock smile triumphantly. Then I saw the smile falter, as he realised that I'd known that man was guilty, simply by looking at his photograph. I wondered if he was going to ask me about it. He wasn't the type to ask things like that, so I guessed he wouldn't. With that, I decided to head back to my apartment. I had lost valuable time, which I could have used by reading my newspapers.

The next few days passed, more or less, uneventfully. I had to listen to Sherlock playing the violin at three in the morning. One time I got so fed up, that I made him stop playing and go to sleep (I can control minds, so yeah).

One day, Sherlock and John were about to depart for the morgue. Before they departed however, they asked me if I would like to come along. Seeing as I had nothing really to do, apart from going shopping for jumpers that are two sizes too big; and seeing as I've never liked shopping, I said yes.

In the car ride over, I discovered that we were going to be looking at a pair of sneakers. …right.

Once we arrived at the morgue, we came across a lady named Molly. I didn't even have to read her mind to tell that she had a crush on Sherlock…awkward! Anyway, I also discovered that she is dating someone named Jim. Hmmm, yes, she is definitely not the smartest person in the world. She doesn't even know the guy's name! I'll make sure to ask this mysterious 'Jim' what his last name is when he comes in.

Just then, Molly came back into the room, as she had gone out for a short while. Almost immediately after Molly came into the room, Jim came in. Holy crap, I knew that Molly had an unfortunate taste in men(she has a crush on Sherlock after all, any person could see that Sherlock is not the dating type), but I didn't think it was _that_ bad. As I was registering this, I breathed in sharply. Sherlock looked at me quizzically, but he didn't say anything. Then Molly, because she has a crush on Sherlock and had this idea in her head that she was going to make him jealous, decided to boast about her and Jim being 'together'. Poor Molly. Judging from his thoughts, Jim was the worst possible person to choose as her boyfriend.

Anyway, he said nice to meet you to Sherlock. Before John could respond, I said, "so _Jim_, tell us about yourself. What's your last name?" I asked, trying not to sound too creepy.

"ah-well-ah, my name is Jim…Smith" I smirked. Why do people always pick 'Smith' as their cover last name? It may be common, but I have never met anyone with the last name 'Smith', including Jim. "well-ah-I've got to go" he said, eyeing Sherlock. That is overdoing it a touch, Sherlock already knows you're gay Jim. That's the problem when people want someone to notice something, but they don't want that someone to suspect anything. They end up trying too hard to make sure that person notices that certain thing. Anyway, as soon as Jim left, Sherlock abruptly informed Molly that Jim was gay. _Ha!_ I thought. That's the least of the reasons why their relationship wasn't going to work!

John immediately started telling Sherlock off. Sherlock, being Sherlock, decided to be an ass and ask John to look at the pair of sneakers. John refused, but Sherlock insisted. I must say, John did rather well, he deduced that the pair of sneakers belonged to a kid, and that they were probably trainers. Sherlock then told John that he missed everything important, and then proceeded to 'deduce' the life story of those sneakers, completely ignoring me. I didn't really mind being ignored, I mean, I could've told him who those sneakers belonged to, why that kid left them behind, how he was killed; even who killed him; but oh well. Sherlock was right on every account. "Am I right, Emma?" Sherlock asked. Why he would think that I knew whether he was right or not is beyond me.

"you are right." I said carefully, looking at the shoes. "Carl powers" I said, looking at Sherlock, and gesturing towards the shoes. As I said this, the reality of the situation dawned on me. The way Jim's mind worked, dear god. Some people are just plain awful.

"Who's Carl Powers?" John asked.

."1989, a boy named Carl Powers was killed at a swimming tournament." Sherlock said. " Everyone thought it was a tragic accident, but since Carl was a champion swimmer, it being an accident was always very unlikely, but the police didn't think so. And what was particularly strange was that there was no sign of his shoes, all his other clothes were in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes. Until now" Sherlock said, gesturing towards the sneakers on the table.

"so you're like him, then?" John asked. "you can tell someone or something's life story, just by looking at it." John said.

"I suppose so, yes" I said. Well, I couldn't exactly tell him that I have mutant powers, so may as well go along with the theory which John offered.

"We're going to have to look at Carl's classmates list, although I highly doubt we'll find anything" Sherlock said, looking at me strangely. I knew for a fact that you wouldn't find anybody with the name 'Moriaty'(Sherlock doesn't know that Jim is Moriaty) but oh well. I was curious to see if there was anybody named 'Richard'. I'd caught that name in Jim's thoughts, and the way he referred to it, it seemed like Richard was his long lost brother or something. I don't know what his last name is. I'd been a bit preoccupied to make 'Jim' think of Richard's last name, damn.

We looked at Carl's class list and what do you know, there was nobody with the name Moriaty. However, we did discover that there was someone named Richard, but that was Carl's brother, so most likely not the murderer. On the way back to our apartments, John told me that there was a person being held hostage, and that if Sherlock didn't solve this 'puzzle', then the hostage would most likely get blown up. "Sherlock-" I started to say, but Sherlock was off in one of his rants, and so he didn't hear me.

Now that I think about it, it was probably a good thing that Sherlock didn't hear me, as I haven't come up with a reason why I would know that 'Jim' from IT was Moriaty. What could I say? That I'd met Jim when I was younger? That story might satisfy John, and maybe even Sherlock for a while, but eventually questions would be asked, and I wouldn't be able to give the answer. I was just going to have to keep that knowledge to myself. Besides, what good would it do anyway? Jim most likely had another identity(probably Richard) so he could just switch over to that, and 'disappear'; telling Sherlock wouldn't do anything good; in fact, it would probably make things worse, as Sherlock would most likely get cranky because I knew something which he didn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N So here's chapter 3! I don't own any of the characters mentioned. So yeah, enjoy!**

Once we got back to our apartments, I stayed in my room, thinking. This is getting complicated. I wonder if I could vaguely suggest to Sherlock that, because the boy had eczema, he would have had medication, and so maybe the killer introduced the poison into the boy's medication; but decided against it, for I just got a vision of Sherlock figuring it out in precisely 30 minutes. I'm guessing 30 minutes is how long the experiment will take. Oh dear, Jim is just plain sick. For as soon as Sherlock solves this, Jim will kidnap someone else, and hold them hostage, and make them say whatever he wants.

This game could go on and on; hopefully Sherlock was right about the five pips, and so, there will only be five people. Then a thought crossed my mind; what if John or I were one of those 5 people? Obviously, if that happened, John or I would be the very last person to be held hostage, but still, the thought of it made me feel sick. In fact, the thought of anybody being held hostage like this made me feel sick.

A few minutes later, I heard a shout of joy and excitement, followed by someone's hand slamming on the table. I'm guessing Sherlock just figured out what kind of poison was in the boy's medication. I made a short trip downstairs to their apartment, and I was right. Sherlock had discovered what was in the boy's medication. I had to hold back the urge to inform him that I had known that since I first laid eyes on the boy's shoes, but I didn't. It just annoyed me that Sherlock was explaining all this to John and Mrs Hudson, whom he thought were stupid; when someone, somewhere, would most likely be going through hell, and praying that someone would save them from being blown up.

As soon as Sherlock posted on his website, the mysterious pink phone started ringing. The hostage said, or rather, as Jim had put it, read out, congratulations to Sherlock for solving the puzzle, and to come and get them. Jeez, what kind of creep would do this? Of course, I knew the answer to my question, a consulting criminal. In fact, I'm surprised the idea hasn't occurred to Sherlock. He said it himself that he's not the only one who gets bored, and so I would have thought it would have occurred to him that there could be consulting criminal out there. Anyway, that's not particularly important, because I knew that in a short time, another poor person would be kidnapped, and forced to read out whatever Jim wanted them to read.

Sure enough, the next day, we got another phone call from our secret admirer (they're not exactly your average secret admirer, but in a way, Jim is a secret admirer). This time the person was in the middle of central London, crap. Of course, Sherlock doesn't know that, and I couldn't exactly blurt out that I magically know where the dude is.

The next couple of days went like that, Sherlock would get a message in his phone, showing him the clue, then we would get a call from some poor person, who is reading out Jim's little message. Each time, the pips were counting down; at the start the little message with the clue would have five pips. Sherlock had just finished working out the 2nd last puzzle. The police have been called to go and pick up the poor person involved in this one. Then I had a vision.

Oh my god, crap. I glanced at John, then at Sherlock. I made a mental note to go after John when he decides to head off. I waited anxiously. What exactly was I going to do? Just stay with John, and get myself kidnapped and strapped to a bomb vest as well? I mean, I knew I could just fly away, if someone tried to kidnap me, but I wasn't about to show John my wings. Just then I had another idea. Jim couldn't afford to blow up John and Sherlock; if Sherlock died, Jim wouldn't have anyone to play with. That's the problem I suppose, with being an evil genius; you want the recognition. You want people to realise how fully brilliant it is, and apparently (according to Jim) ordinary people don't realise Jim's brilliance, but Sherlock does. So anyway, maybe I could watch things unfold from the shadows, and step in if I need to. Yeah, that's a good idea.

Just then I heard talking, then a door close. I looked out of my window, and saw John walking across the street, probably to hail a taxi. Now all I had to do was wait. I'm not one of those people that cannot stay still and just wait, so I decided to read the newspapers. I'd been reading for about a minute, when I heard a door close, and then footsteps going down the stairs. Sherlock had left. I knew from his thoughts that he planned on confronting Moriaty at the pool where Carl died. Is it essential for a high-function sociopath to be dramatic? I quickly hurried downstairs and hailed a cab. On the way there, I let myself worry. What if I got there, and the whole place had been blown up? I mean, yes, I knew that that wouldn't happen, but still; it didn't stop me worrying.

When I got there, I really had to concentrate in order to not be seen. I had to find a place where I could observe, but be unobserved myself. It took a few minutes to find the perfect place. I observed Sherlock standing beside the poo. He was holding the plans in his hand, evidently he thought Moriaty would be interested in them. _Wrong_, I thought. However, now was not really the time to point that out, for John had just stepped out to greet Sherlock, wearing a jacket which had bombs strapped to it. Crap. As John started talking, I could tell from Sherlock's thoughts that he thought John was Moriaty. _Really Sherlock? Really? Of course John's not Moriaty! _Luckily, by now John had shown Sherlock what was strapped to his jacket, and so Sherlock understood. I wondered when Jim was going to make an appearance, when I heard his voice. Then he stepped out. I saw the looks of surprise on Sherlock's and John's faces; after all, how could Molly's gay boyfriend be Moriaty?

"Jim Moriaty. Hi." I personally think he suits the name Richard better, but oh well. I tried to find out what was going to happen, but to no such avail. My telling the future thing, because it is annoying, never seems to be there when I need it. I glanced down at what was happening. Things seems to be going ok, although John looked like he was about to faint. Although I must say, he was coping rather well, considering he was wearing a bomb, which was strapped to an over-sized jacket which he was wearing. I know that most people would have probably started screaming, or at least, started crying. I suppose John's experience in the army comes in handy. Anyway, just then, I got a vision. A phone call…right. So a phone call would interrupt Sherlock's staring contest with the bomb jacket, which was lying on the floor. Okaaay. Anyway, back to the scene unfolding in front of me.

"then I trust my answer has already crossed yours" Sherlock said, turning around and pointing his gun at the jacket, which, like in the vision, was lying on the floor. Ok, so this is when the staring contest starts. _Sherlock, you're not an idiot so I trust you're not going to pull the trigger. That's what Moriaty wants, and you never do what people want._ However, because Sherlock sometimes is an idiot, I decided to take control, just in case. Come on Irene, make the phone call already! Just then Moriaty's phone went off. Interesting ringtone, 'staying alive'. Anyway, once 'Jim' was finished with his call, he, being the maniac that he is, said that "it's the wrong day to die". Typical.

Anyway, that's how we got out of that 'sticky' situation. They never even noticed I was there, even though I was watching them the whole time. I don't really mind though, it would be really awkward if Sherlock was having that staring contest with the jacket, and then I coughed or something, and then they'd all look around, and know that some creepy person was watching them. Well, actually there was only one other person besides myself, who was watching Sherlock and Moriaty(and let's not forget John). I'll explain that later…maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N So here's Chapter 4 :)**

Strangely enough, life seemed to carry on as normal, or, how normal my life normally is, after 'that' event happened. Of course, neither Sherlock nor John knew that I was there in the first place (I checked their thoughts), so it would have been weird if I mentioned it to them. I do wish that I could tell them about my wings. I love flying, although I have to fly late at night, because people would see me if I flew in the morning. It's just annoying having to pull my wings in all the time.

A few weeks after Moriaty and Sherlock had finally met each other(more or less, seeing as technically they already had met each other), Sherlock's somewhat charming brother(note the tone of sarcasm) put us on a case, leading us to 'the woman', also known as Irene Adler; and yes, she is the same Irene that made that phone call. At first it was just a case of such-and-such has compromising photos of such-and-such. Then it got a lot more complicated, as one those "boring cases" which Sherlock had immediately turned down, turned out to be not so boring after all. Then there was this business with her phone and it's mysterious combination which she refused to say (I couldn't very well say that I knew what it was, as then I would have had to say that I could hear her thoughts). One thing led to another, and before I realised it, they had a thing going on between them. Not exactly your normal girl-likes-boy-boy-likes-girl-they-start-going-out kind of thing, it was a she-likes-him-and-she-is-the-only-person-to-ever-' beat'-Sherlock, Sherlock-is-sort-of-attracted-to-her-but-is-more-f ocused-on-"the work" thing. Of course, the only girl that Sherlock's ever taken any notice of has to be a girl that works for Moriaty; figures.

Before long, John and Mrs Hudson were growing worried about Sherlock, even Mycroft was worried, because "apparently" (get what I mean when I say apparently) Irene had "died". I personally was not worried about Sherlock at all, I knew for a fact that, although he sort of liked her, he is definitely not heartbroken. The reason Sherlock was acting a bit strange (stranger than normal) was because he's wondering why he actually has feelings all of a sudden (I had been wondering that as well, seeing as I was under the impression that he didn't have any). Being me; I decided to simply let things unfold, as I could see no immediate danger. I knew that Irene would reveal herself eventually, so I would just put up with all these constant Mycroft-to-John phone calls until she did. Sherlock was also starting to write sad music; jeez, he is really trying to prove a point. And- oh my god. Sherlock, for god's sake! I understand what you're trying to do, but seriously; it still hasn't occurred to him what the code might be? It says, "I am **** locked. I am SHERlocked, obvious.

So Irene FINALLY decided to announce that she's not dead. Interesting how she wanted to talk to John instead of Sherlock, but I suppose she knew that, because John thought he was going to meet Mycroft, he did sort of, tell her all she needed to know. Anyway, I thought it was quite funny that Sherlock was right there, listening in. I suppose, in some ways, I am like Moriaty and Sherlock, I find it amusing to watch people dance.

To make matters even more complicated than they already were, Sherlock has decided that he will tell her what the mysterious code, which she has on her phone, means(It's not really a code; it's the…sequence I suppose you could call it, for a jumbo jet. So the jet, the time and the seat numbers of the jet, in case you're wondering), knowing full well that she will tell Moriaty what that code means. Sherlock's going to do this, all in the hope of figuring out the code on her phone, or rather, ensuring that the code on her phone is such and such. I know he already suspects a couple of things, and he's had a few goes with it already, but to no avail.

I was wondering if I could, somehow plant the idea in his head, that it could be blah blah blah, because, as Sherlock will say, "you can't kill an idea can you? Not once it's made a home", presumably in your mind. No, Sherlock, you can't kill an idea, or rather, a person can't really kill another person's idea. It's like, if someone has told you not to think of something, you will automatically think of that something. It's hard to explain, but if I say, "don't think of bananas", you will think of bananas, even if only for a second. People don't realise it's happening, but when they hear things, they get an image in their mind of that thing. As I said, it's hard to explain, but, because I can read people's minds; I've got a pretty good understanding of how the mind works.

Ok, this is getting ridiculous.

"Sherlock," I said casually, as Irene went to get something from the kitchen. "Has it ever occurred to you that Irene could be working for Moriaty?" I asked, trying not to sound too irritated.

"Yes, of course it has! I'm not stupid like the rest of you," Sherlock said. I'm obviously not the only one who is irritated, although, unlike Sherlock, I managed to hide my irritation.

"Then why are you going to tell her the code? I suppose if you knew what the code on her phone was, then it would make up for your brothers' plans being spoiled, but otherwise, I do not see why you would tell her. And don't deny it, because we both know she is working for Moriaty" I said, trying to get my point across.

"How do _you _know she is working for Moriaty?" Sherlock said, accusingly.

"I don't know, but I assumed, and you have just proved my assumption correct. I'm guessing you don't know the code. I don't know for sure" (actually, I did know for sure, but I couldn't exactly say that) "but I think the problem is that you've been focusing too much on the code itself. You need to take a step back; you need to look at the bigger picture." I said. With that, I decided to go back to my apartment. If I had a conversation like that with any normal person, they would probably ask me if I was sane or not. Thankfully, Sherlock is not exactly a normal person.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Long time no see, I'm sorry, I've just been busy, and had a major case of writers block. Anyway, here's chapter 5**

After eleven hours, and 22 minutes since mine and Sherlock's conversation, Sherlock finally figured out what the code is! (took him long enough!) Although he hasn't told Irene yet; in fact, he's planning on really dramatically telling her, just when she thinks that she has the upper hand; I would say that that's cruel, but she hasn't exactly played fair either. I really wished he would tell her already; then I might have been able to relax a little. Wait a minute…he's going to dramatically tell her and Mycroft tonight (I just had a vision). Well, seeing as I knew I would not be able to stand there and watch everything unfold without cracking up (don't judge me); I decided to stay in my apartment, and let Sherlock do whatever Sherlock does. I advised to John to keep out of it, as he had been insisting on accompanying Sherlock, as judging from what I had seen, it would not be sensible for John to accompany Sherlock; John would only, in the words of Sherlock, "get in the way."

Once Sherlock had left, I sat down on my couch and watched TV. I could hear from downstairs that John was doing the same thing; I smiled, Sherlock could say, or think, as much as he likes that John's an idiot, just perhaps not as much as most people, but I know for a fact that John's not an idiot; he's got a quality that most people don't have, not even Sherlock: the ability to accept that someone, often that someone is someone you don't like, is better than you. It may seem simple, but you would be surprised how many people out there would not admit that someone, whom they don't like, is better than them, especially someone like Sherlock (I suppose that's why most people call Sherlock a 'freak' when they first come across him and his deductions, while when John first came across Sherlock, he said it was 'amazing'). Anyway, back to the present time.

All in all, the night turned out to be pretty boring. There was nothing particularly good on TV, so I decided to watch an episode of Jonathan Creek, it was called 'The Problem At Gallows Gate'. I sighed, fictional stuff on TV is always horrendously unrealistic, all the stunts, etc. All this while, I was getting quite anxious, as Sherlock was taking a while (of course I knew that everything was going smoothly, or rather, as smoothly as I could hope for, but that knowledge didn't stop me from worrying), typical. I decided to concentrate on John's thoughts for a bit...nothing particularly unusual, as far as I could tell, John's annoyed at Sherlock as he, also, does not trust Irene, and he's annoyed at Sherlock because Sherlock won't listen to John, and he's also worried about Harry, as she hasn't called him back, and it's been two days.

I decided to go for a fly, seeing as I was growing increasingly worried by the minute, and John's worrying wasn't helping in calming me down. I made the short trip to the park; once there, I kicked off the ground and snapped out my wings. Ahhhh, flying is the best feeling in the world. I soared through the sky, feeling the wind under my wings. Flying made me feel so strong, like I could do or conquer anything or anyone. After a short while, I decided to head back to my apartment. As I was walking alone (I would fly back to my apartment, but there's too big a risk that someone might see me), I got a vision. So Sherlock is going to save Irene's life right after it is revealed that she is working for Moriaty? What a strange relationship those two have.

As soon as I got back, I decided to check in on John; he was fine, Sherlock still wasn't back yet, and John was still watching telly. Once I headed up to my apartment, I decided to read a book; I quite like reading books, I know for a fact that Sherlock thinks reading books is a waste of time, and is only a distraction from the real world; I find that quite funny as that is exactly why a lot of people, including me, like reading books; they provide a distraction from the real world, people like escaping into that fantasy world. Anyway, as I was reading my book, I heard Sherlock come back (it was about time!); all went well in regards to Sherlock's 'little trip'; him and Irene tried to outsmart each other, Sherlock put 'one of the most important plans to the British Government' at risk, and he managed to outsmart Irene…totally normal.

Anyway, the next few days were pretty ordinary; however, one day was less ordinary than the others. I was sitting in my apartment, minding my own business (that's me, always minding my own business…not), when I glanced out the window and saw John hailing a cab (has it ever occurred to him or Sherlock that things might be easier if they learnt to drive?), then I got a vision, and that, combined with Sherlock's thoughts, made me crack up. I knew I shouldn't be laughing, I mean, John worrying about Sherlock enough to try and lie to him, and Mycroft caring for Sherlock enough to not want to tell him that his girlfriend (not exactly his girlfriend, his…I don't know, fellow high functioning sociopath maybe?) is dead (which, by the way, she's not), is sweet; but that situation can be made very amusing when you know that Sherlock in fact, knows everything, and also knows that Irene is in fact, not dead(he saved her himself). I wondered briefly is I was like Sherlock; I don't mean that fact that I can tell someone's life story just by looking at them, I mean in terms of personality, hmm…

Anyway, getting a bit off track; John was out for precisely 22 minutes, it only takes about 5 minutes to get to the location which Mycroft wanted to meet John at, and they only talked for 3 minutes and 23 seconds, so John must have spent a lot of time pondering over what to tell Sherlock. The second John walked into his and Sherlock's apartment, I made my way down there myself; I couldn't resist seeing the situation play out. "I just talked to Mycroft about 'the woman'," John said to Sherlock. I could tell that Sherlock was also amusedly curious as to what John would say.

"Oh, where is she?" Sherlock asked, clearly trying to sound expressionless. I tried to stop myself from laughing as I had a look at John's thoughts, _to tell him or not to tell him, to tell him or not to tell him, to tell him or not to tell him; _I didn't even have to be a telepath to tell that John was trying very quickly to decide, what to tell Sherlock. I mean, it wasn't funny really, it's nice that John is thinking about Sherlock's feelings (though why he does is beyond me), but the fact that Sherlock knows exactly what is going on, makes the situation quite amusing. _To tell him or not to tell him, to tell him or not to tell him…_

"…she's in America," John said in the most unconvincing way possible. I shook my head, John, you're a terrible liar.

"I got a text from her a little while ago," Sherlock said. In spite of myself, I grinned wickedly, if our roles were reversed, I probably would have done the same thing as what Sherlock is doing.

"Oh, what'd she say?" Are you sure you want to know, John?

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes," Sherlock said. A weird sort of silence then hung in the air, it was clear to everyone that John had been lying, and now the situation was extremely awkward. I ended up letting out a snort of laughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just, just-" I tried to get out, while at the same time trying to hold in my laughter. John's facial expression was a mixture of confusion and irritation (probably because he felt humiliated).

"What's so funny?" John asked, with a slight hint of panic in his voice. I smirked; no offense John, but Sherlock knows full well that you lied.

"He knows that you think she's dead," I said, watching John closely, wondering when he would figure out the meaning behind what I had just said. I watched his face as the realization dawned on him.

"You were just enjoying watching me squirm, weren't you?" John said, now clearly annoyed.

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping that you would be a better liar," Sherlock said, in a way which I knew, would annoy John immensely. With that, I decided to head back up to my apartment.


End file.
